


Respite

by galacticproportions



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Tenderness, r & r, space weed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-22 13:26:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8287378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galacticproportions/pseuds/galacticproportions
Summary: Just a quiet moment by the lake.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [orchis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orchis/gifts).



> This is just schmoopy fluff, friends, and I'm not going to apologize for it because I have had A Week, and this is what I needed to write. If you're prone to cavities, maybe give this one a miss; if, on the other hand, you've also had A Week (or A Month, or A Life) and you need a little respite too, this is for you. Specifically, it is for orchis, with affection.

Finn's been back on base for two days, and Poe for three. They've had the urgent, clumsy, we're-both-still-alive sex, the lazy early-morning we've-got-four-days'-respite sex, and the fully-recovered sex that left them both sore and hoarse and in need of a couple more respite days, which they won't get. They've shat, showered and shaved; they've had breakfast, and Poe's had caf, and the sun is shining.

They look at each other. “Back to bed?” Poe suggests. “I think there's like, two or three things we didn't get to. Or we could walk down to the lake.”

“Lake now, bed later sounds good.” They walk out of the mess holding hands. Why not? In the beginning, they were met with cheers, and later with eyerolls and mimed gagging. It doesn't even register now, except occasionally with new recruits or sentients for whom any public touch is indecent.

The lake is about twenty minutes' walk into the woods, down a little slope and ringed with thick beds of reeds in most places, but here and there big rocks extend the land out into the water. They go first to the best rock, but there are three mechanics sitting on it playing cards. Their coveralls are rolled down to the waist and their jug of homebrew is more than half full; they don't even look up when Finn and Poe emerge from the path.

So it's the second-best rock, which is higher and smaller and juts out more. The smallness of it at least necessitates sitting closer. Poe produces two spice bidis and a firestarter from his pocket, and hands one over. The smell of the smoke joins the water, the mud, the dead leaves and the living leaves, the different things they put on their hair and their freshly washed skin. They sit with their shoulders pressed together, until the sun gets so warm that Finn takes his overshirt off and Poe leans back to get a good angle. “You looking?” Finn asks, amused and knowing perfectly well.

“Looking at my dream come true. Sunny day, good smoke, nothing to do, a handsome sonofagun who's all--” Poe stops.

“Who's what?” Poe says nothing, and Finn elbows him, not hard. “Who's all what?”

“I don't know,” Poe says in a low voice. “I don't wanna say 'mine' about you. Too many people already tried to say that. It doesn't feel right.”

“It didn't work, though,” Finn points out.

“No, that's true, it didn't.”

“A handsome sonofagun who loves you,” Finn offers. “How about that?”

“And who I love. Yeah. I notice you're not arguing with my description.”

“Why argue with the truth? A commendation to Commander Dameron, for an exceptionally accurate and succinct assessment of conditions on the ground.” They snicker, take another drag, breathe out a light haze between them and the blue sky.

The best rock is the best because it hangs out far enough over the water that you can, for example, stand out in the lake and blow someone who's sitting on the edge of the rock (provided you're willing to roll up your pantlegs), and it's big and flat enough to, for example, lay someone out on and lie on top of him and rub against him until he begs for mercy. This rock is too uncomfortable and precarious for any of that, but they can turn and kiss, and they do.

“I don't wanna say this too loud,” Finn says after a while, “but we're kinda winning. Our part of the war, anyway. This last mission we were figuring out what to do with the personnel from three surrendered star destroyers, _three._ And I don't know if you saw, but Islan and Benay sent word that the Order reneged on their last two intel payments. They're running out of money.”

“And these last sector sweeps didn't turn up any additional activity. I mean, even that we're sitting here right now—three-four months ago we'd have been on our way back out already. You're right. It's—strange. We might actually get to sit on rocks in the sun as much as we want, one of these days soon.”

“Would this really be enough for you, though?” Finn asks. “Just this?”

Poe treats it as a serious question, takes a minute to think. “I don't think so,” he says. “But it's nice right now.”

“Yeah it is.”

“What about you?”

“I don't know,” Finn says. “But I like it that I can even ask the question, you know?”

“Yeah.”

“I'm worried about Rey, though.”

“You're always worried about Rey. Rey's gonna be fine. Worry about whoever gets in her way.”

“Fair point,” Finn says, but the line between his brows stays put. Poe smooths at it with a thumb, grinds out the bidi on the rock and pockets it again. “You ready to go back?”

“In a minute,” Finn says, and kisses him again. “In a little while.”

 

 


End file.
